Forget Me Not
by wop00
Summary: I like my tea hot. I hate cats. I have a strong dislike for people who point and burp. I can wave a wand and do magic. I'm a girl...with a best friend who's a quarter Veela. My self-esteem is like any other teen girl  low . My views on love? Ehh...  s/oc
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything.

* * *

><p>1.<p>

Laughter. Jokes. Hugs. Smiles. Compliments.

"Wendy, come on, you have just _got_ to come!"

Boys. Girls.

"They're not really my scene,"

Best friend.

"Just give them a try! They're nice!"

She had it all.

[][][][]

I sighed and looked at the barely conscious bodies surrounding me. The small, cramped room reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. I wrinkled my nose. I hated the smell. It clung onto your clothes and just smelled bad.

"Wendyyyyyy,"

I looked down and snorted. She seemed to have barely made it out alive. Her blonde hair, unnaturally highlighted in streaks of carmel, seemed to have taken a life of its own. Her makeup, disheveled, looked more like war paint then the clean, sparkly look she had on earlier. Damn. Didn't she looked hot.

"Wannna help meeeeeeee?" Ha. Look. She was even drooling.

I sighed and grabbed her arm, slinging it around my neck. She stumbled as she tried to stand up. I rolled my eyes and easily took off her five-inch heels she so tragically wanted to wear. Her head nodded in relief, and she clung heavily onto my body as I dragged her upstairs.

Geez. Look at me. Juggling a drunk person on my left and heels on the right while trying to keep in balance. Apparently, the circus has yet to leave town.

"Whaaat time?"

I looked outside a window so pleasantly placed on the side of the spiraling staircase. The sun was rising. I sighed again. Typical Maurauders party. Classes were going to start soon yet half of the Gryffindor population downstairs was deep asleep or in a dark coma. I didn't reply and continued to help her upstairs.

When we reached our room, I noticed that three of our five bed were empty. I looked over, seeing a raven-haired girl, her legs, awkwardly tightly wrapped around her covers deep asleep and, at the other bed, bob of strawberry blonde hair barely popping out of the pillows. Seemed like Bridgette was deep asleep down at the party too.

After carefully tucking her in, I checked my watch. Five in the morning. It would be stupid to go and sleep for another three hours before rushing to class. Thank Merlin for the wonderful invention of coffee.

I felt something stir. I looked down, her doll-face looking unfairly yet strikingly like an angel from Michaengelo's painting, frowning.

"Tiimee?"

I couldn't help but smile. Smart girl. She must have noticed I hadn't answered her question under all that alcohol.

I bent down, carefully bringing up the covers up to her chin.

"Just sleep Lindsey. I'll visit you during free period."

Lindsey nodded absently.

I rose quickly, in want of a cold shower to get rid of the awful smell. Soon afterwards, I found myself meandering in the dark hallways of Hogwarts, school-bag in tow, and wand in hand, looking for the kitchens.

Who else could give better company than house elves anyway?

* * *

><p>Bad? Good? Ok? Somewhat ehhh?<p>

Lol. I'm kidding.

It was awesome.

: )


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing

* * *

><p>2.<p>

Breakfast in the Great Hall was a quiet affair. Given, half of Gryffindor's students were missing, but it didn't seem to surprise anyone. Thanks to the Marauders, parties in the Gryffindor common room has become a usual habit.

I poked at a slice of French toast. Then I frowned. Who the hell named this piece of bread 'French Toast'? What, was there a difference? Was there a piece of 'Italian Loaf' floating around somewhere?

"Wendy!" I looked up and immediately wished I hadn't. Olive Bergess, a Hufflepuff who was a royal pain in the arse with the most aggravating bubble gum voice in the entire world, was happily skipping over to where I, my little lonely self, was sitting.

"Olive," I offered a smile. It turned out to be more of a grimace. But I don't think she realized it. In fact, she continued to talk.

Internally, I sighed. _Patience. _

"Is Lindsey here with you?"

I held back a snort. Yes, Lindsey was most definitely here, by my side, yet just decided to wear an invisible cloak for the kick of it.

Ignorant girl.

"No, she decided to sleep in today. She got the snuffles,"

Olive cooed and looked greatly disappointed. Silence quickly ensued. Very uncomfortable silence.

"Well can you relay her a message?"

Did I looked like a freaking messenger owl to you?

"Sure,"

"Can you tell her that _he accepted!"_

I raised an eyebrow and bit my tongue back. The burning question of who, what, why were fiercely scorching my tongue but I didn't speak up. I just nodded and silently watched her hair, a short bob of shiny chestnut, bounce up and down.

I wish my hair was that shiny.

It was only after she delved into the crowd of gossiping students did I realize that I was left alone again, leaving me to glare down at a piece of French Toast. I pushed back my plate and peacefully stared out the window.

No one else talked to me that day.

[][][][]

Potion class was dreadful. In fact in felt like a cooking class. Stirring the potion clockwise, adding pinches of grated rosemary leaves, and adding eye of newt. Typical wizardry stuff really.

Not my worst class but definitely not my favorite.

I was paired with another Gryffindor, Nicholas Delome, a quiet awkward teen of sixteen, who hated anyone calling him by any other name other than Nicholas. He was, in fact, quite picky.

"You cannot call me 'Nick', 'Nicho', 'Nicky', 'Nicky D.', or any other names that may ensue. Only Nicholas," was the first thing he said to me the first day we met, during our First Year. Even then he a tight-collared kid. I responded by laughing at him, thinking it was joke, only to be shut up by his deadpan expression.

He wasn't kidding.

"Hey Nicholas," I greeted him, out of mere politeness. He nodded in response. We didn't talk much. I sat next to him, our seats arranged to please our Potion Master, Horace Slughorn.

The fattening walrus dressed in wizarding clothes had thinning hair, and a very soft spot for the 'talented' kids. People call him biased. I call him greedy. And self-centered. And selfish. And unfair.

Or just plainly a bastard.

"The potion you will make today is the Beffudlement Draught. Should be fairly easy. Now off you go!" with a wave of his wand, the ingredients were written out on the chalkboard and the screeching of stools quickly followed, as a rush of Slytherin and Gryffindor students hurried to pick up the necessary ingredients.

Hell, Nicholas was already head-first in his cauldron, doing very questionable things.

Leafing through my textbook, I walked up to the cupboard totally unaware of the very four Marauders - very tired and smelly Marauders I might add - mischievously concocting something.

"No but what if-"

"We've done that already, Wormtail. We've got to be original!"

"Sirius, he's only trying to help,"

"Guys, I feel like I've beaten my head against a bunch of bricks,"

"Sounds like something Evans would do to you,"

"Shh, guys someone's coming,"

I looked up, ignoring the four pair of eyes evidently staring at me. In fact, was is surprising to say that I hadn't even notice their [very loud] whispering?

I groaned at the ingredients that I read off. Was it coincidental that all three of those were on the top shelf? Closing my book with a loud thud, I reached for the Sneezewort, one of my ingredients. I strained myself, trying to reach it. But no. The damn jar just had to be so high up. I bet it enjoyed my torment.

Not to add the loud snickering that broke my very deep concentration.

"Does Pan need some pixie dust to fly up to the top shelf?"

Damn it.

I flustered as I met the grey taunting eyes of Sirius Black.

I didn't say anything.

He grinned, flashing his girl-swooning, gold-worthy smile. Even when he was dirty, grimy, and smelly, he looked attractive.

Damn him.

"So how 'bout it? Left your tongue back at Neverland too?"

I watched Peter Pettigrew, a chunky little follower of the Marauder's "club", choke himself into laughter. Even Potter offered a grin at Black. I stared at Remus Lupin, the only one not responding correspondingly to Black's insults.

See, my mum has the sickest imagination. Her infatuation with Peter Pan, the fantasy story, was beyond scary. She married a good man, Harold Pan, saying that she "truly loved him" even though my suspicions were more like she was in love with his last name. So when I popped out, she just couldn't help but name her first-born, a girl, Wendy, because she was just so 'mature and wonderful'.

Total bull.

She was just an overgrown obsessed child. Whom I just happen to love dearly.

Wanna guess what she named by little brother?

But back at the situation at hand. With Black taunting me. Couldn't he be the gentleman so many girls gossip about instead of being this shitty arse? He was tall. Couldn't he spot a damsel in distress? Like, possibly, take the ingredients for me?

Please?

"Here," to my surprise, Lupin had shoved Black, glaring at him, and reached for not just the Sneezewort but the rest of the ingredients as well and handed them to me.

What a gentlemen.

Taking the ingredients under my arm I stood there, not really knowing what to do next.

Thank him? Curse at Black for being an arse? Trip Pettigrew for the fun of it? As the seconds ticked in silenced, I felt my face grow hotter.

"Thanks," I murmured and hurried back to my seat, ignoring their stares.

I was such a coward.

Truthfully, I wouldn't have minded some pixie dust to fly out of that situation.

* * *

><p>Reviews?<p> 


End file.
